Feelin' Groovy Parts 1-4
by Garfunkel
Summary: The Roswell gang's in the 60s and Michael finds out something interesting about Maria . . .


Note: if you guys have any probs with the 60's lingo go here [http://cougartown.com/slang.html][1]. Begins right after Sexual Healing.

Summary: Okay, well put the whole Roswell gang in the 60s. (Okay, let me just say now, if I get anything wrong with the what would be in this time frame don't get mad at me-I'm only 16 and am going with what I know from TV and what I've read. And if you yell at me I'm just gonna come back to you with "poetic [I guess "fic" is better] license"!) Okay, here's a bit about the characters: Maria's a beatnik (wears all black and a beret-she's kind of pessimistic; don't ask me, I just pictured her as one when I was thinking of this story). Liz is a ditzy wannabe psychic ( think Phoebe from "Friends"; she can only see true visions when Max is around-just a bit for all you dreamgirls; I know this sounds like it would be more in character with Maria but I figured I'd let my imagination go, I'm trying for a bit of humor-following Leslie's advice from Guerin-Deluca). Isabel is an anti-war (hippie -like) singer-songwriter (again, don't ask me). Michael is a reactionary (in that he wants a lot of action-you know throw yourselves in front of a train, etc.-Malcom X as compared to Martin Luther King, Jr.) Max is a poetry buff who's a pacifist (here's your MLK, Jr.) Alex is a complete mechanical geek (you know, a young Bill Gates or the one who would turn out to invent apple computer; yeah, I guess it's a bit in character) Amy Deluca's a is a total 50s clone--subservient to men, i.e. Jim, but it just did not work(again, I'm having fun with these characters, but I fear I'm going to be yelled at b/c people like the character's the way they are. Well, hey, it's an experiment!). Jim is well Jim, he's the sheriff but he's a lot more macho (he's got the whole ego thing way more). I don't know if Kyle will be in this or not, but if he comes up I'll describe his character then. Oh and the Crashdown exists but it's different-it's like a folk/poetry club (ya know, dark, smokey, sofas and stuff?) I'm not sure where this is exactly going and I know it's strange-but hey I've gotta keep myself entertained during the re-runs and I'm sick of Tess (I've been trying to stay spoiler free but I accidentally started reading an e-mail accidentally and got really pissed off about the whole M/I thing) .

Part 1:

"Maria!" Liz gasped as she burst through the doors of the Crashdown. The café, dark and smokey, was occupied mainly by anti-war teenagers who were there for the poetry readings and the folk music. "Oh Ma-ri-a, there you are," Liz said, exaggerating the other girl's name and waving her arms about excitedly, her leather vest's fringes and love beads swinging around, mimicking her motions. She ran up to Maria, who was sitting on a red sofa leaning over and writing in a small book.

Looking up and seeing Liz, Maria closed her book and asked, "What is it now, Liz?" obviously a bit annoyed. 

"Oh, Maria. Maria, oh, Maria. You're just not going to believe what I just saw! Oh, Maria, oh jeez," Liz babbled, flinging her long hair behind her back, as she sat down next to Maria. "You really aren't going to believe this, Maria-"

"Liz, just tell me what you saw, okay?" Maria asked, placing her pen in her journal and putting them both on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

"Oh, Maria, you're....you're.... you're....YOU'REANALIEN!" Liz almost yelled the last part.

A few people from the counter turned their heads in the girls' direction, but as soon as they saw where the outburst had come from they went back to drinking their coffee and listening to the guitar player/singer on the stage.

Because Liz had spoken so quickly, it took Maria a minute to figure out what she had said. This wasn't too uncommon a practice for Maria though, for Liz always talked really fast. Once, she had deciphered the message, Maria calmy and coolly replied, "Liz, we're all aliens in this life-none of us belong." With that, Maria grabbed her notebook and pen and sat back on the couch.

"No, no, Maria you're not understanding what I'm saying. I'm trying to tell you that you're.....," Liz lowered her voice and leaned closer to Maria, "you're 'not. of. this. earth'." Liz stopped at each word, as if she were speaking with a five-year-old.

Exasperated and closing her book yet again, Maria leaned in closer to Liz, her beret almost touching Liz's rainbow sparkled forehead band and her eyelashes just inches away from Liz's green eye-shadowed eyes. "Liz, you always have these sort of visions. Last week you thought Alex was some kind of computer genius and you know that's not true because only the military has computers. And the week before you thought Michael and Max were spies from Vietnam!"

"No, you're wrong, I had a vision that Alex would one day be a computer genius and I still think he will be. Well....and Michael and Max being spies I have to admit was the result of physchodelic dream; so I suppose that one's probably not right," Liz replied nodded her head, as if trying to convince herself as well.

"Of course that's not right! If anything they're spies from Czchloslavakia," Maria smiled a bit. "You see, Liz, your visions, dear, are hardly ever accurate."

"Yeah, I know, but this time Max was with me, and you know how my visions are right when he's near me," Liz's eyes glazed over as she said this, and she layed back on the couch, with a large smile on her face.

"What? Max was with you-" Maria cut her statement short when she realized Liz was in her own world. "Liz!!" Maria yelled as she shook her friend with one hand, it was hard enough to pull Liz out of her ulternate universe, but add Max to the equation and it was nearly impossible.

"Wh-, oh, Maria, I'm sorry, I just was-"

"Thinking about Max," Maria finished Liz's sentence. "Look, Liz, I really want to get back to my poetry and I've got to go-, um, I have to go um...., somewhere. So what was all this about Max being there when you had your vision? You really saw me as an _alien_?" Maria lowered her voice considerably on the last word.

"Yeah! What do you think I've been say-ing! Jeez, and people say _I'm_ slow," Liz replied, rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up in the air.

"Liz, did Max see this vision too?"

Part 2:

"Man, you really don't care do you? You're happy here and you just don't care."

"Sure I care, Mike, but I'm not gonna go and chain myself to a building to help 'the cause'! Besides, since when do you care about the troubles of humans?" Max asked, dropping his pencil and turning around in his desk chair. They were in Max's room, where Max was attempting to write, while Michael was trying to convince him to join a protest.

"I don't. That's not what this is about. In fact, in the entire course of this conversation nothing remotely related to humans has been mentioned. Where the hell have you been?" Michael asked, more than a little irked, from his perch on Max's windowsill.

"Right here; trying to write a poem, I might add. What do you mean 'nothing remotely human'? For the past half-hour, you've been trying to persuade me to go with you to shackle ourselves in front of the sheriff's office, which is now a makeshift drafting office, in order to protest the draft. Now please explain to me how that's not a human cause?" Max replied, also annoyed. Pushing his shaggy hair off his brow, Max sighed, preparing himself for the tirade to come; Michael was always either apathetic or over-zealous about his 'causes.'

"Look it would just be a cover. Tons of people would be there and with the chaos we might be able to check out the sheriff's files on us," Michael said, shaking his head and looking at the ground as he did so. It was now Michael's turn to sigh, for to him it was completely obvious that Max hadn't been listening at all.

"Michael, assuming I went with this plan, how on earth do you plan on getting inside the station? Are you forgetting that we would be tethered to the outside?"

"Yeah, but not when they arrest us," Michael replied nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural answer in the world.

"No!" Max replied resolutely, "I've got too much crap on my record already and you can't afford any more, yourself. Don't forget being an 'emancipated minor' is a privilege, not a right." He shook his finger at Michael as he finished this last statement.

Standing up, Michael exclaimed, "Damn, you're starting to sound like them, Max."

" And who, may I ask, are 'them'?"

"'Them,' the enemy," he replied staring Max sternly in the face.

"Who, humans?"

"No," Michael said, laughing slightly at his friend's ridiculous remark. His voice then took on a serious tone as he continued, still towering over and staring squarely at Max, "Adults or rather, to be more specific, _indifferent_ adults."

Max, ignoring his friend's last statement that was an obvious attempt to hurt him, proceeded to question Michael's motives, "Why do you care so much anyway? Don't tell me it's to find home because I'm not going to buy it. You're too adamant about doing this in broad daylight, when previously you've always been partial to midnight escapades. Why are you so determined to be a part of this protest?" Although he headed it with pure curiosity, one could detect an ounce of defense in Max's last question; it was as if he were trying to defend his own actions.

"Jesus, what is this the third degree? Damn, man, I thought that you'd be happy that I came up with a feasible plan for once. One that would actually make us look normal. Besides, Max, if you haven't figured it out yet, at the rate we're going in our search for finding home, the draft will be _our_ problem in two years, you candyass. You're such a sanctimonious bastard; you sit there at your little desk, scribbling away about peace, love, and other crap and you do nothing about it. You forget that you're not one of them, condemn me when I remember, and when I try to do something somewhat human I get shot down too. With you, Max, I'm damned if I do and I'm sure as hell damned if I don't." Raising his hands in defeat, Michael continued, "I can't win! I give up! I'm not gonna try to appease you and your diminutive rules anymore. I am going to go to that protest tomorrow, if for nothing more than to help my friends and the other people this war is affecting. People are dying, Max, whether they are human or alien, lives are being lost for an inconsequential cause. How can that not bother you? I'm not the one who has the stone wall up anymore. You wanted me to learn to trust and love these people, and now that I do, you don't want me to fight for their lives? I might be a cynic, Maximillien, as you so 'poetically' put it a few months back, but at least I'm not a hypocrite." With that, he turned and headed toward the window.

When Michael was half-way out the opening, Max replied snidely, "And I suppose this has nothing to do with Maria?" 

Michael finished pulling himself through the window and then leaned back in, asking, "What?"

Standing up, Max replied, "It's all for the 'cause' right? But it has 'nothing to do with humans,' right? Yet it's all for the good of mankind, right?" His voice had raised a few decibels at each 'right.' Lowering it again and walking towards Michael, he proceeded with his counterattack, "Maybe you should be looking in the mirror when you spout all of that sentimental crap about hypocrites."

Laughing to himself, Michael said, "Man, you just don't get it. Of course this has everything to do with Maria. It has everything to do with her and Liz and Alex and even you and Izzy. This war and everything else going on here is affecting all of us! Yes I want to find home, more now than I ever did so I can get the hell away from here before someone nukes us, but while I'm here I going to do everything in my power to help the people I care about. If there's one thing I've learned over these past few months, it's the preciousness of friends and family, and that's something you taught me. Now I suggest you start taking your own advice, because as you've reminded me so often before, we may be stuck here for a really long time if not forever. I don't know about you, but I would certainly like a place to call 'home' and people to call 'friends' while we're here on earth, rather than a dead, deserted, corpse-invested rock." Michael then shut the window and turned away, leaving Max to contemplate the conversation that had just ensued.

Part 3:

A:

"Liz, I don't believe you. It's not possible. If it were true how come Max, Michael, and Isabel didn't know, huh?" Maria asked exasperated; she and Liz had been discussing Liz's supposed 'vision' for the last hour. "I'm sorry, Lizzy, but like I said before, you're visions are usually wrong. Especially considering you don't think Max even saw it." 

"Yeah, but Maria, Max never sees my visions. He sees his own," Liz replied matter-of-factly, nodding her head.

"Oh," Maria laughed out. Rolling her eyes, she continued, "excuse me; how silly of me to forget that. Liz, how do we know this whole theory of you being able to see accurate visions when you are near Max is even true?"

"Maria, come on, we know they have to be true because I only get visions at certain times; times when I'm meant to receive them. I mean just think about it, Max and I were working on our science project and our arms grazed each other for just a second and BAM! I get a vision. Now, tell me you don't think that's a message from the supernatural? Please, Maria, things like that just don't happen every day!" Liz said waving her arms about, causing her beads and hair to twirl around her.

"They do to you! Almost every day you come to me with some new prophecy or vision! How on earth can you believe that stuff, Liz? You're a complete contradiction, you know that?" Maria asked, shaking her head. "You're great in science and you want to be a scientist when you grow up, yet you believe all of this baloney! Sure flower power's great and all, but sometimes you're thicker than a $5.00 malt. Ugh, sometimes I just don't get you." It was obvious that Maria was starting to get upset; she was already very self-conscientious about her origins, considering she could barely remember her father, but for Liz to sit there and tell her that she was not even human was too much.

Sighing and sitting up straight, Liz stated plainly, "Look, Maria, I know what I saw came from Max, and what I saw was you, and you were an alien."

"How do you know that Liz? How do you know that it came from Max? How do you know any of it is true? You don't. So I refuse to accept it. I'm sorry Liz, but it's not true," Maria replied angrily, standing up, gathering her things, and preparing to leave.

Looking up toward Maria, Liz's eyes pleaded with her as she said, "It is true Maria. Why would I sit here and lie to you? Maria, please, you said yourself I'm a walking contradiction, but I'm telling you from my serious side, I have a gut feeling that this vision is true. Not like my other visions; this one just came to me, I didn't fabricate any of the details." Liz then stood up and moved to hug Maria. Maria let herself be enveloped by Liz's warm embrace.

"You're an alien, Maria," Liz mumbled, while holding Maria's head to her shoulders.

"Ugh!" Maria replied, pushing Liz away, "I am not an alien!" With that, Maria stormed toward the exit of the café.

* * * * * * Meanwhile: * * * * * *

Michael walked down the streets of Roswell, lost in his thoughts. Damn it! Why the hell can he never condone anything I do? And why the hell do I need his acceptance! Damn it, Guerin, why do you care so much? You're supposed to be a stone wall, remember? You're supposed to not care about anything. Maybe Max is right, why do I suddenly care so much about this? How did I let them get to me? These *humans*-, Michael cringed as he even thought the word; he just didn't think of them with that label anymore. "Damn it," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he thought, I've gotten attached. 

He was suddenly pulled away form his own thoughts when the door he was pushing hit someone; Michael was so busy with his thoughts that he hadn't realized he had walked to the Crashdown, let alone was entering it. 

"Maria," Michael gasped.

"Michael?" 

B:

Looking down at the small blonde, Michael could tell she was distraught. Without thinking, he turned and, placing his right arm around her shoulders, said, "Come on."

Maria was surprised by the forcefulness in his voice, but too upset to object, she just nodded and complied.

The two started walking, arm in arm, down the sidewalk to no place in particular. After about five minutes they found themselves standing in front of the Sheriff's Office, where about fifteen young boys stood in a line, waiting to register for the draft. Maria and Michael shuddered simultaneously at the sight and Michael tightened his grip on her; whether this action was more to comfort Maria or himself he knew not. Sensing this, Maria place her left arm around his waist and repeated his earlier command, "Come on." Turning again, they quickly walked away from the inevitable future, for both knew one day their lives would be drastically different, either because of the war or Michael finding home. 

Neither knew when they had become such close friends, but they had, and both treasured the small time they spent together alone. Mostly they just sat in silence yet from that silence the two friends got much more than from a conversation with Liz or Max. Somehow, possibly because their home lives were so similar, they were just connected and understood each other better than either wanted to admit. 

Today, however, now sitting in Michael's apartment, they talked, perhaps really for the first time since that day when Michael had kissed her on the forehead and thanked her for wanting them to be close. If either party actually thought about it, both would go back to that day as the start of their newfound friendship.

"So what's up with you, Maria? Did you and you're mom get into another fight?" Michael asked, behind his kitchen counter, where he was making two cups of tea. Maria and her mom had been arguing a lot lately, mostly over the subject of "Jim."

Sitting on the couch, Maria looked up and smiled weakly, "Nah, nothing like that; just a tiff with Liz."

"Oh I hear that!" Michael replied, walking over to Maria. He handed her a cup of tea and sat down next to her.

"What? Not getting along with dear 'ol Max?" Maria asked jokingly, but with an ounce of seriousness.

"Yeah, but that's nothing new, right?" Michael said, mostly to himself, while looking down at the ground.

"No," Maria muttered, rubbing his arm, "but we've all been sorta on edge lately with the war and . . . well everything else."

"'Everything else'?"

"Yeah you know . . . everything."

"No, enlighten me, because I just ain't diggin' it," he replied, sitting back on the couch and looking at Maria.

"Don't even try to do a number on me, Michael. You know exactly what I'm referring to." At the sight of his blank expression, she continued, "You've got to be kidding! You have no idea what I'm talking about? None? Jeez men really are dense. Even alien ones." She mumbled the last part, but Michael caught it and moved slightly away from her.

"Damn, I'm sorry. Jesus, I don't need this," Michael said, standing up, running his hand through his hair, and walking away.

Maria sat on the couch, dumfounded, and tried to process what had just happened. Finally, she stood up and walked towards Michael who was leaning on the counter with his back to her.

"Mi-chael," Marie stumbled on his name.

"What?" Michael retorted scornfully without turning around.

"Look I'm the one who should apologize. I was just being stupid and immature." At his silence, she continued, stepping a little closer to him, "Obviously, though, something has really upset you." She carefully placed both her hands on his shoulders; when he didn't back away, she rested her head against his back and, rubbing his shoulders, sighed, "So what happened?"

Mirroring Maria's sigh, Michael leaned back against her petite body and allowed himself to get lost in her for a second. 

"Nothing. It's just . . . nothing," Michael choked out.

Suddenly Maria's arms were around his waist and were turning him around to face her. Before he knew it, Michael was being forced to look Maria directly in the eyes and his face was being cupped by her hands.

"What happened between you and Max?"

Damn her perceptiveness! Michael thought, but quickly cursed himself for it afterwards, for he knew Maria saw in that instant of self-reflection that she had been right.

"Nothing. Nothing happened," Michael replied pseudo-nonchalantly as he maneuvered out of Maria's grasp and walked back to the couch. "Maria I don't want to talk about it okay? It's no big deal."

"Fine," Maria mumbled, sitting down next to him. She'd learned not to push Michael to talk over these past weeks.

"So.....what was this 'everything' you were talking about?" Michael asked as he place his arm around her shoulders. He, on the other hand had not learnt the lesson.

"Oh, just the differences with everybody." Maria continued her answer, looking everywhere but at Michael, "You know, how we all aren't getting along as well as we used to like you and Max, me and Liz -oh man, is that the time?" Her eyes had come to rest on the wall clock, with a hot pink peace sign in the background that she herself had given him as an apartment-warming gift.

"Ugh," Michael grunted as he pulled his arm out from behind Maria's back. Looking at his wrist watch he said, "Yeah it is. Why?"

"I gotta go and do um...well stuff. I gotta go do stuff," Maria said quickly while she stood up and began gathering her things.

"'Stuff'? What kind of 'stuff'?"

"Uh...nothing...just some deliveries...mom's alien stuff."

"What are you talking about? Your mom doesn't work anymore. I thought Jim made her quit her job?" Michael was standing now.

"Oh, um, yeah, well see, she's got some left-over things that she wants me to try and sell to um...the...the..."

"Alien Museum?"

"Yeah! That's it the Alien Museum." Maria tapped him on the chest during her outburst, causing her to drop all her things. 

"Maria, are you okay?"

Blowing her hair out of her eyes, Maria looked at Michael flustered and tried to look her most confident. "Huh? Me? Oh yeah, I'm just fine." With another glance at the clock, Maria fell to her knees in an attempt to gather her belongings. "Oh jeez, I'm so late..." she breathed out, "um here can you hand me my journal over...over there?"

"Yeah here you go." Michael, now on his own knees, handed Maria the black-covered book and, placing his hand on her shoulder, repeated his earlier question, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," she said, standing up and pulling her bag over her shoulder. "Look, Mike, I had a lot of fun today, I'm gonna cut out; don't want to hang my mom up, bye." With a small kiss placed on Michael's cheek, she scurried out the door.

" 'Mike' ?" Michael asked out loud as he closed the door. Who the hell is 'Mike'? And why'd she go all ape?

His thoughts were answered as he looked towards the floor near the couch and saw a small white card with a picture on it. Due to his sensitive eyesight, he could tell that it was a picture of Maria with the words, 'Mrs. Kyle Valenti: Head Researcher of Project Z3745.'

Michael took the room in two strides and was staring at the white card. He then threw it against the wall, sank onto the couch, and yelled, "Damn!"

Part 4:

A:

Against his better judgement and ego, Michael went after Maria. He finally caught up with her across the street from the Roswell U-Totem. 

"Maria! Wait!" he huffed as he grabbed her arm and turned her.

"Michael, wh-"

"Where are you going?" Michael interjected before she took the upper hand of the conversation.

"What? I'm going to get my mom's car. I left it at the Crashdown."

"But your mom doesn't have a car- I thought Valenti took it from her because it wasn't 'ladylike.'"

"Well, um, yeah, but the bus station is right near the Crashdown," Maria said, trying to turn away, but Michael's hand prevented it. "Look, I really have to go." Yanking her arm from Michael, she began walking away.

"Michael shook his head, stared at the ground, and mumbled, "Who are you?" When she didn't answer, he was filled with more anger and determination than he'd been in months and, looking up, screamed his question again, "Who are you?!"

Maria halted, but neither turned nor answered. Michael walked up to her and, standing in front of her, asked, "Are you married?"

"What? Are you razzing me? I'm only six-" She cut her own words short at the sight of the ID he held in front of her. 

"What's Project Z3475, Mrs. Valenti?" he asked, indignation coating his words.

A look of pain shot through Maria's eyes, but it quickly gave way to anger. "That's not of your concern," she replied in a condescending tone as she snatched the plastic card from Michael's grasp.

His features tensed and looked upon the girl with pure hatred. "Just tell me one thing, are you really married?"

"Yes. Yes I am twenty-five and am married to Kyle Valenti."

Michael gulped and looked away-he felt as if his insides had been shredded. "And your mother?"

"That's, um, classified information," She replied and then briskly walked away.

Michael stared after her. He hated her with a blind fury-no, in reality, he didn't hate her, which caused him only more anger. "Uuuugh!" he yelled as he kicked a bench beside the sidewalk.

B:

"Five-hundred cases of plutonium. Sixty-nine barrels of mustard seeds. Three-thousand tons methane . . . 'Slow down, you move too fast . . .' FLY AWAY, birdie. Fly. '. . . got to make the morning last . . .' FLY! Pickles. Need pickles."

Michael couldn't help but stare at the obvious veteran, who was sitting across the street on the curb. The man was counting something on his dirt-encrusted fingers-Michael was not close enough to hear, but he doubted he could decipher the traumatized man's gibberish even if he was in earshot. The barefooted man was wearing cut-off army pants and a tattered camouflaged jacket, on which his uneven grayed hair rested. Must've been one of the few old guys they drafted, Michael thought.

Suddenly, the old man looked up; directing his gaze solely at Michael who still stood across the street. The man's stubble-surrounded lips slowly pursed and let out a single word: "Boom!"

Michael stood, shocked, as realization hit him. The old man was not old nor was he truly a man by many's standards. He was Doug Foyer, Roswell High's star quarterback from last year. The guy, who used to be somewhat of an ass in Michael's opinion, was now nothing but a withering shell of a human being.

" 'Are you married?' " Doug imitated as his eyes shifted from side to side. Paling, Michael swallowed hard. Doug stood and, flailing his hands about, began walking towards him, shouting, "Fly away, Birdie! FLY!"

Obeying, Michael turned and flew away. He ran until his feet felt like cinder blocks and his lungs disintegrating sponges lacking moisture. Coasting to a stop in front of the Crashdown, Michael bumped into somebody-Kyle.

   [1]: http://cougartown.com/slang.html



End file.
